


Drink to Me Only

by shihadchick



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-02
Updated: 2010-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Fraser were having what you might class 'communication' issues. (set during Mountie on the Bounty.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink to Me Only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queue/gifts).



> Prompt from [](http://ge2.livejournal.com/profile)[**ge2**](http://ge2.livejournal.com/) of "Fraser, drinking." Many thanks to [](http://the-antichris.livejournal.com/profile)[**the_antichris**](http://the-antichris.livejournal.com/) for looking it over and reassuring me it wasn't without merit.  Oh, and for reintroducing me to the comma which I had drifted apart from this month... ;)

  
They get safely on board the Bounty and the first thing Fraser does is down a good gallon or so of water.  Before he goes on off to find a new uniform, before he reports in to the Ice Queen, before he does any-damn-thing else.  


Ray could've told him it wasn't going to work, but then half their problems at the moment were direct results of Fraser not asking, Ray not wanting to listen and other variations on that theme.  That the other half were due to violent criminals dumping toxic waste in the Great Lakes was sort of not the issue at stake.  At this juncture, at least.

Fraser spouted something with way too many syllables about how significant time spent under the pressure of several atmospheres worked to dehydrate the body, and how he was simply reimbibing the necessary moisture and then he turned to remind Ray that he should do the the same, and there were maybe two people on the whole boat who might've noticed that his hands shook a little as he gestured and that their eyes didn't quite meet.

And since one of them was a wolf who wasn't going to say anything to anyone (except Fraser, who'd be getting chapter and verse as soon as they had a minute alone) and the other was currently awkwardly not looking at Fraser anyway, it went unremarked.

Ray could've told him it wasn't going to work because if half-drowning hadn't washed Fraser's taste out of his mouth, then a mere bottle or three wasn't going to do anything for Fraser.  Besides which, Ray had kind of done this before (or parts of it, at least, because the sub bit was sure a new experience and probably one he could've done without) and that taste?  That one lingered.

If they hadn't been running up sails and hauling around cannons that probably dated back practically to the War of 1812 anyway, Ray would've been smirking viciously and panicking internally.  As it was, reversing those two actions seemed like a safer approach.

* * *

[earlier]

They were up to argument number thirty-seven B, now, or would've been if Ray had been keeping track, which he totally wasn't (except for the part where he sort of was, if only out of a kind of sick fascination because the only other person he'd fought like this with, ever, was Stella.  His parents had gotten off lightly in comparison.)

Fraser said something, and Ray snapped back, because, damnit, if he'd just listen, for once in his life, and then, that was it, that was the final straw, not a nasty fight on the waterfront and the stupidest punch Ray'd ever thrown in his life, because this was Fraser really truly seriously _losing it._ This was Fraser squirming around in the sub (which shouldn't have even been possible, but if there was one thing in this life you could bet on it was Fraser coming out on top in any situation where common sense said otherwise, the laws of physics or logic or whatever just seemed to sort of roll over and play dead where he was concerned and damn if that didn't piss Ray off all over again anyway), and this was Fraser getting right up in his face while Ray felt himself tense up because, Jesus, this was going to hurt.  His head was probably going to bounce off the steel walls of the sub a few times before he could even get a return lick or two in.

That actually happened later, but not at all for the reasons Ray'd been thinking.

Instead, this was Fraser breathing hard and ragged inches away from his face, Fraser's weight pinning his legs and chest in place, Fraser's palm scraping over Ray's ear and his fingers biting hard into Ray's hair.  Fraser's mouth crushing tight up against his, just like when they were sinking, except this time there was a lot more tongue and a lot less air, and if Ray'd had a taste earlier, then this was a full blown buffet with seven courses.

Ray only had time to think something that didn't really work out right in English but was probably a close relation to "oh god yes" and "that's what we were missing" before Fraser pulled back, wide-eyed, obviously about three seconds off going into total polite-Mountie shutdown, and Ray huffed out a violent breath, muttered "hell with it" and yanked him back down.

Because this was good.  This was communicating, this was Ray arching up to help Fraser tug the shirt out of his jeans, this was Fraser asking and Ray agreeing, all in the slide of a fingertip, the raise of a brow.  This was Ray yelping because the floor was actually damn cold when his bare back hit it, Fraser grinning in reponse, and then somehow twisting himself into the tiny front section of the submersible so that he could slide right on down Ray's body, lips dragging from navel to hip while Ray panted and cursed. 

Ray twisted his hands in Fraser's shirt and hauled him back up, hands either side of his jaw while they kissed and kissed, squirming against each other in the close quarters, scrunched into that one possible position, and Ray was just getting to the point where he realised that they could come like that, give them another ten minutes and they probably would, and give him another ten seconds of hearing Fraser make those noises and he wasn't even going to care about having to sit in damp sticky jeans for however much longer.

Which was of course the point where Fraser half rolled off him, elbowing Ray in the side as he went, but his complaint choked off into nothing because Fraser wasn't quitting, wasn't freaking out, Fraser was wedged into what little space there was in the bow and Ray's pants were tangled round his ankles and Ray's knees were digging into Fraser's chest and he took a moment to appreciate the sheer weirdness of his life because, well.

Of course, that was the point - with Fraser's breath dancing wickedly over Ray's thighs and belly, cock curving hard and wanting, wanton - that was when Fraser had to come over all uncertain.  As if Ray chanting "do it, do it, God, Fraser, c'mon!" half under his breath wasn't obvious consent.

He got as far as "Ray, are you sure?" which Ray was pretty much nominating for the Guinness world record's dumbest question _ever_ and Ray just shifted his hips and growled something inarticulate and did his best to telegraph "and if we live through this you can try it again in a _bed_" by eye contact alone and then, praise be, Fraser's mouth was on him, Fraser's mouth was _on him_ and his eyes were slamming shut and his head was falling back because, Jesus, Fraser was blowing him but good.

Well, okay, it wasn't technically the best head Ray'd ever got, but what Fraser maybe lacked in experience he sure made up for with enthusiasm, and Ray'd been looking at that mouth for months now, whether he admitted it or not, and it was pretty clear his thing about licking stuff had some solid recreational benefits.  Fraser was all over him, hands and mouth, swallowing like he was starving, desperate for it. And it didn't take much of that before Ray was shuddering apart under him, coming with a yell that echoed crazily and seeing stars that were not all to do with how hard his head had hit the wall when muscle control and coordination went south with the rest of him.  Fraser drank him down, looking totally smug and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and obviously Ray was unhinged because that was hot all over again.

Maybe he'd given himself concussion or something in the process, though, because it had to be the only way to explain why he'd thought it was a good idea to say as he was finishing up on getting himself tucked in and zipped up again, hand running through his hair checking for bumps and messing it up some more, "Hey, Fraser, if that's what you call logic then maybe it isn't entirely stupid after all."

  


Apparently they were only communicating when one or both of them was naked, because instead of taking it as the sort-of compliment Ray'd meant it to, Fraser got all in a snit again and then there they were, bam, head first into argument number thirty-eight. 

It was kind of distracting every time Fraser licked his lips, though, because even glaring over his shoulder at Ray there was a little flicker in his expression that went straight to Ray's gut, the one that said 'recognition' on a level so intimate he didn't even want to think about it too much, the one that said he knew what Ray was like on his tongue and that it wasn't gonna be the last time.  Which was fine by Ray.

The arguing also got a lot more fun now Ray could figure they'd be both sticking around long enough to hit numbers thirty**-**nine through whatever.


End file.
